My thoughts are a small city, a town in many ways. The fork of roads leads to a paved old street. My backpack must have missed the bus seat. I am going to where it is waiting, the house with broken panes but with closets whiter than the walls of stone. My first stop is… read more »
To Mother Who Is Away
October 16, 2011 By Leave a Comment
I should do as a grown-up as you say. I parted the curtains this morning and remembered to heat water. The laundry does not swell into a mound and the sink is not crowded at all. The cats’ paw prints on the floor Are wiped before they dry up. Pillows sit upright on the couch… read more »